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Many in Even Greater London were aware of the saying "to get ahead, get a Bell." A smaller but still statistically impressive amount understood that this referred not to the instrument, but to the family, the sprawling net of influence that made up a good amount of the real power in the city. But very few knew exactly where that power came from - how a group of siblings born into a well off but not exactly notable family had managed to worm their way into quite as high ranking positions as they had.
Although he was not the oldest of his siblings - and was often reminded of this fact at family dinners - Julius was the one to begin their family’s rise to fame. He had done rather well in his studies at Oxford, and more importantly, had managed to make exactly the right acquaintances to gain a position after graduating in the palace of Queen Victoria. Through a winning combination of hard work, carefully applied diplomacy, and a surprising aptitude with a screwdriver when needed, Julius quickly found himself rising through the ranks until he reached the position of aide.
It was here that Julius Bell, junior aide to Her Majesty Queen Victoria, made the suggestion that would change not only his career, but help set up his siblings in their own respective fields and ensure the Bell legacy. The palace was reeling from the Queen’s recent absorption of her husband, not to mention the… incident with the horse, and public opinion of the mechanical mass that was increasingly sarcastically being called Queen Victoria was at an all time low. Julius found himself sat in the corner of a packed room as various aides, advisors, and other assorted officials paced anxiously and talked at increasing volumes without actually really saying anything at all.
“Well we have to do something !” the Prime Minister blustered. This was the thirteenth time he had said those words, as if the rest of the room had somehow managed to miss this salient point and were under the impression that, actually, they didn’t have to do anything. Privately, Julius thought that a great many of the men in the room would have greatly preferred that outcome, simply waiting for this all to blow over like a particularly unpleasant storm. In his time at the palace, it had become increasingly clear that a large part of politics consisted mostly of complaining when people suggested changes or improvements, and then complaining even more when things inevitably went wrong.
Julius, however, was determined not to be one of these people. As much as he enjoyed the idea of influence and power - as much as the next person who had grown up one of a number of siblings, constantly fighting to be recognised as more than just ‘one of those Bell kids’ - Julius had chosen his particular career path because he wanted to make a difference. Even if that difference may just be ensuring the reign of a mechanical woman whose existence made even Julius question some of his previously held views about mortality.
In truth, even if she was a mockery of death itself, the Queen wasn’t really all that bad. She was imperious, had an awful temper if you caught her on the wrong day, and admittedly had recently chosen to have her deceased husband’s consciousness implanted within her through what Julius could only assume was dark magic, but beneath all that, there was a woman genuinely devoted to her country. If only the people currently protesting outside the palace gates could really see that, get to know the Queen at more than just public outings with weak-spined horses.
A thought occurred to him then, lighting up his mind like one of Edison’s bulbs. He stood up, clearing his throat and waiting. If there was one skill Julius had cultivated over the years, it was the ability to draw attention to him with nothing more than a well timed cough. It had served him well at uni, and even before that, living in a house with that many children and that much noise. Even here amongst the chaos of the palace, heads immediately turned his way and a hushed silence fell across the room.
“If I may,” Julius began, suddenly and painfully aware of the stares weighing upon him. Part of him wanted nothing more than to apologise for even having the audacity to assume his opinions would be needed. But there was another part of him, a part that forced him to stand tall and proud and say what needed to be said, because he was a Bell damnit, and it was up to him to make that mean something.
“Go on…” one of the senior officials said, after a couple of seconds of stunned silence.
Julius nodded gratefully in his direction, and continued. “I believe that the problem we are facing is partly due to… shall we say a lack of belief in our Queen’s humanity. Of course, Her Majesty is a symbol of England’s power and grace, both of which are as undying as she apparently now is. However, this seems to have somewhat backfired. She has risen too far above her people, and as such, she has lost touch with the common man.”
He paused, waiting for someone to interrupt, to argue in favour of her Majesty’s down-to-earth nature. However, it seemed even politicians weren’t prepared for a lie that grand, and so when no such interruption came, Julius continued.
“What if the Queen could speak to her subjects? Obviously not on a one to one basis, that would be unreasonable on a number of levels, but rather, some kind of general address. Imagine, her Majesty’s voice, booming out from every street corner, reminding her subjects of the woman behind the layers of extensive reconstructive mechanical work! Imagine the people on the streets of Even Greater London stopping whatever it was they were doing, pausing the everyday stress and toil to listen to a few words of reassurance from their Queen.”
To his absolute surprise, when Julius finished his speech he was met by impressed mutters - and no shortage of relief from some of the older members of the group who had just been hoping someone would come up with any kind of solution that would allow them to go home and put their feet up. In barely any time at all, heads had been put together, and a plan had been drawn up for the new speaker system that would be installed throughout the city, to bring the Queen’s words to everyone - whether they liked it or not.
Plans were also drawn up for Julius’ promotion, much to his delight - hidden of course behind the requisite layer of performative modesty. It wasn’t long before he was rising even faster through the ranks of the palace than before - and if his rapid rise in popularity allowed him to suggest a new candidate for the Commodore in charge of the warships off Norfolk, or slip a few juicy tidbits to a certain ambitious journalist rising equally quickly through the ranks of the Morning Chronicler, well. It was admirable what one did for one’s family, was it not?